


To The End

by swagruinsluminary



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M, The lady isn't a big part she just interviews Jamie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swagruinsluminary/pseuds/swagruinsluminary
Summary: Jamie is called into an interview and relives some past memories of him and Damon.





	To The End

"So, Mr. Hewlett, as you must already know, we're very glad to have you here."

Jamie nodded with mock gratefulness as he did in every interview, plastering a happy smile on his face as the woman spoke to him. 

"Were also sorry that Damon couldn't join us today either, what did he say his issue was again?"

The lady tilted her head as she asked the question, her blonde bangs hanging droopily over her left eye as she did so. Jamie pursed his lips, unsure of how to respond. So he just said the truth. 

"Ah, he didn't want to go. He said he hates interviews."

The blonde woman just smiled and shook her head in response, looking at the camera in a way that looked very unnatural to the people on the receiving end. 

"Oh, such a character, that one. Well, I'm sure chatting with the other half of Gorillaz and the artist of Tank Girl is more than enough, don't you agree?" 

Jamie nodded, like he had at the first thing the woman said. She asked some general questions about the "process" of art, his inspiration for Gorillaz--things he had answered a thousand times before. She even threw the classic: "Since you're getting older, what's going to come of Gorillaz?" Jamie hated that question. Mainly because he doesn't have a good answer for it. 

"But I'm sure most fans are constantly wondering this," she began, her voice laced with monotonous disinterest. Jamie wondered if she had actually ever heard a song by Gorillaz. "How would you describe you and Damon's relationship?"

Now, as much as he hated to admit it, that question did put Jamie into a bit of a tailspin. Quiet enveloped the scene as he racked his brain for a good explanation, because they weren't quite friends, but they weren't quite less than that, and they certainly weren't more that that. He thought back to when he and Damon had first met through a common buddy, when Damon and him had moved into a flat together before Gorillaz was shoved out into the public. 

"We're getting a flat, mate. Maybe that's why it's called flatmates, huh?"

Jamie chuckled lightly, focusing more on carrying his boxes filled with fragile, glass plates and cups than Damon's less than ingenious word play. Their flat was nice, even without any furniture in place yet, and Jamie thought having a roommate such as Damon would be quite the adventure. Graham had tipped him off about the frontman; drug addict, naughty, arrogant and difficult to deal with. 

Once everything was set up, Damon flopped down on the bed, screwing up the sheets Jamie had just ironed and patted the spot next to him with a subconscious urgency. "Come on, Jamie, lay with me and stop acting like such a damn housewife. You don't need to cook and clean and make the bed and do the laundry for me, you know." Jamie kicked his shoes off, laying down besides Damon on his stomach and letting gravity push him as far into the mattress as physics allowed. It was an annoying two weeks setting the whole place up, he'd admit, but Jamie was glad it was over and done with. 

It was 4 in the morning when Jamie woke up, and even though he wasn't under and covers he felt oddly warm for a brisk night in nothing but a t-shirt and his shorts. He turned over to get up, but felt himself stuck on something. Jamie turned around and reached his arm out, his hand contacting with the soft flesh of another limb wrapped his waist, this one not his own. It was Damon's, and as Jamie eyed the other's unkempt appearance--hands locked around his waist, legs tangled with Jamie's and his face smothered into Jamie's back in such a way that made Damon's nose smush and Jamie wondered if he was slowly suffocating like that--he decided to lay back down and spare Damon the ache of waking up and falling back asleep in entirely new position.

"Mr. Hewlett?" The blonde woman called out, snapping Jamie from his lovely daydream of the forgotten past and into his borderline dreadful reality of being trapped in a terrible interview conducted by an equally terrible interviewer. "Oh, right, sorry. I was just trying to think of an answer. I guess you could say we're friends, yeah. Maybe best lads, if you'd want to put it like that."

She nodded half heartedly, before glancing at the teleprompter for what to ask next. 

"You would say you're friends, but how would you describe your feelings towards Damon? Most of the collaborators he's worked with have described him as annoying, but you've stuck around this long. So what makes you stay?"

Jamie remembered when he showed Damon his first design for an animated band before he met Damon versus the design after. "I must be fucking brilliant then, lad, if I inspired you that much." 

"Don't give yourself too much credit, Dames. I'm still the one who drew them." 

"I know, I know. I'm just so glad, yeah? Now MTV can shove it up their ass, I've gotta watch their faces as an animated band can top the charts faster than those blokes who scream into the mic and call it music can." 

Jamie tutted and shook his head, leaning a little closer to Damon in the process as he usually did before he was about to dish out a well-timed insult without breaking face. "Hmm, but Dames, are you one of those blokes on MTV who just yell into the mic?" Damon didn't take it well, as usual, and grimaced, glaring at Jamie, before standing up and leaving the room. For a few minutes, Jamie didn't move, poised on the same position on the couch as he was before Damon stomped away, arm still resting on the back of it and his chin on his hand. 

It had been a few hours since Jamie's harmless tease, but Damon was still avoiding him. Jamie decided that if Damon was already this annoyed with him, and it must have been one of his particularly moody days--not to say Damon wasn't usually moody, no--but Jamie wasn't in the mood to kiss up and make it all better. So he sighed and yelled: "Dames, can you come on and clean up all the shit you left strewn around the floor? It's been days since I asked you."

Damon strode in incredibly slowly, his hands in his pockets and his face still screwn up in something that looked anything but happy. Maybe, Jamie thought, he should have approached the situation with more grace. "Come on, it's getting annoying. You don't see me leaving all my paper and pens on the floor, huh?" Damon cocked a brow in questioning, looking around the room to prove Jamie's point wrong, but the artist had already thought that through and cleaned up beforehand, leaving Damon looking even more defeated than before. Something else was bothering Damon, Jamie could tell, but perhaps insulting the man's entire band and life's work really threw him over the edge. 

After Damon scooped all his crap up into an unfathomably shit pile and threw it gracelessly onto his bed, Jamie leaned on the doorway and smiled in mock approval, watching as Damon became more and more silently enraged by the second. "Could you wash and dry the dishes now, please? I've gotten tired of doing all your chores." Graham's subtle "I guess the only things I've notice ever annoy Damon is being told what to do and being told he absolutely sucks," rang through Jamie's head at full volume, but Jamie just ignored it. 

Maybe he liked pushing Damon's buttons once in awhile. 

Jamie gave Damon a solid twenty minutes before he walked into the kitchen, just in time to watch as Damon dried the last glass. "It's got a spot on it." Damon huffed, scrubbing harder with the towel, trying to get it off without having to rewash it again. "Oh, like you're so goddamn perfect yourself."

"No," Jamie mused, "but I don't have to try that hard to be better than you." And Jamie walked out on that, glancing back briefly at Damon without him noticing. He looked like he was about to cry. Jamie heard the glass break from how hard the other man was scrubbing. Maybe he felt a little bad.

While lying in bed, waiting for this good-turned-terrible day to finally come to a close, Jamie reassured himself that it was fine what he did to Damon--he deserved it, right? He was a right bastard sometimes, and shagged more girls without protection than Jamie's had hot dinners. Also, he was absolutely unbearable the first few weeks of knowing each other. So what he was dating Graham's ex? 

"Jamie?" Damon called into Jamie's room, looking worse off than he was when he started the day. "Jamie? Jamie." Jamie sat up, rubbing his eyes which were blinded with sleep. He looked at the clock: 3 AM. "What do you need, Damon, it's three in the fucking morning." Damon didn't say anything, only lurched forth and laid next to Jamie, tightly wrapping his arms around Jamie's thin waist and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Jamie could feel Damon's hot skin against his; it was moist. Damon and been crying. Jamie felt worse. "Jamie," Damon said again shakily. Jamie could finally hear his voice, and his hypothesis 'Damon had been crying' was proven true. "She broke up with me. We're over. She thinks," Damon hiccuped, cutting himself off, "it's because she thinks I was jealous of her stupid band getting popular in America." 

Jamie didn't know what to say, so he just held Damon tight, scooting more to the right so the other had some room. "She doesn't love me. Maybe she never did." Damon said more to himself than Jamie, and Jamie kissed Damon atop the head and Damon started crying again. 

"We're losing you again, Mr. Hewlett." The lady giving the interview joked as she and the camera man exchanged glances. "I guess I could say I think he's bearable. Damon is one of those characters that not everyone can get along with."

The interviewer nodded, then scribbled something down. "What do you think Damon thinks of you, then?" 

Jamie wanted to think he's Damon's best friend, but he knows, deep down, the other man has always thought of him as something more. Something that Jamie's sons teased him about whenever they look at the numerous pictures of Damon and Jamie kissing, the videos of them exchanging glances and touches on stage, the magazine captions and article headliners of Damon saying that he was sad Jamie left; that he felt like they were married. 

"I think I love you." Damon said lazily, cigarette in his hand as he watched Jamie sketch from across the table. "Do you love me too?" Jamie looked at Damon for a brief second, noted his nonchalant posture, and assumed it was nothing extraordinary. Damon had kissed him many times before--albeit on the cheek--but Jamie was no stranger to how he acted with Graham, so, mistakenly, Jamie responded with, "I love you too, Damon." And didn't think twice about it. 

It wasn't until seconds later when Damon was perched besides him on the table that Jamie thought maybe he shouldn't have said it so surely, that maybe, just maybe, Jamie should have paid more attention to what he was agreeing to. "Good." Damon cupped Jamie's cheeks in his hand and leaned closer, their noses brushing up against each other. He could feel Damon's hot breath dance across his skin before their lips connected in the most dreadfully passionate kiss Jamie had ever felt and he gently pulled Damon off the table above him and on to his lap, folding his arms around Damon's shoulders. Jamie was no idiot, he knew how Damon was attracted to him; the man was very open about his feelings, much to Jamie's content; it was nice feeling loved even after he slipped out of his twenties and into his mid thirties. If he wasn't famous, Jamie liked to think that maybe he'd never find anyone else at this age. Deep down, Jamie knew he meant to respond in such a way. He wanted to give Damon the 'It's okay'. Damon wanted that, too. 

Damon must've been more excited than his voice revealed, because as soon as Jamie reciprocated said kiss, he began eagerly rubbing their hips together, groaning at the friction he was causing between them. But even though the skin on skin contact felt, to say the least, utterly amazing, and Damon's lips kissing and licking a trail down Jamie's neck weren't half bad either, Jamie knew this wasn't going anywhere. Hell, it would make their relationship even more uncomfortable than it already was. 

"Wait, stop." Jamie said and slipped out from under Damon, causing the other man to whine in discomfort and follow Jamie to the bedroom. He sat on the bed and Damon followed suit, leaning towards Jamie again and kissing him all over his face, his hands trailing down to palm at the crotch of his jeans. "Damon," Jamie said, breathlessly, "we can't do this. You don't really want to be with me, you just want a good wank." Damon stopped the kisses and took his hand from Jamie's pants and rested it on his own hip uncomfortably, his cheeks flushing a deep red out of embarrassment. "You think all I care about is a good wank, huh? Hate to break it to you, Jamie, but I could get that anywhere. Don't flatter yourself." Damon got up and left, taking his jacket off to cover up the tent in his jeans and spare himself more embarrassment than he already felt. "Wait, Damon," Jamie called out, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Fuck!"

Damon didn't come back for another few hours. He gently opened the door to Jamie's room and laid down in the bed behind him. Jamie shuddered slightly at the feeling of Damon's hard-on pressing into his back, feeling slightly guilty Damon had been sitting in uncomfortable sexual agony on end for hours. Jamie didn't know why he didn't just take care of himself, though. There were always a few naughty mags lying around the flat. 

"I'm sorry, Jamie." Jamie sighed, turning to face Damon once more. "I'm sorry, okay? Stop just staying in your room whenever something goes wrong, I'm sorry. You're not just some shag, alright? You're--" Jamie cut him off with a kiss so gentle it could hardly be categorized as that, and he felt Damon sigh in relief, felt his shoulders de-tense and the corners of his mouth turn up. Jamie kissed his again, this time a little harder, and let Damon take the lead while he let his hands trail down to the hem of Damon's boxers and inch down them until Jamie cupped his groin in his hand, stroking from the base to the head and circling said head in the same way he had seen the girls do in pornos. 

It only took a few minutes for Damon to come undone, dirtying Jamie's hand with his semen and panting hard into the crook of his neck. Jamie wiped it off on Damon's underwear and pulled them back up for him, eliciting a soft chuckle from the other man. "Ew, Jamie, c'mon. You coulda washed your hands, now I have to clean these." Jamie loosely wrapped his arms around Damon's neck, kissing the other man's chin. "Mind taking care of me, next?"

"Mr. Hewlett, do you need some water? You look like you're sweating." Jamie looked over to the blonde lady uncomfortably, praying no one in the room was capable of hearing his thoughts. "I think Damon finds me equally bearable, but probably more bearable than I find him."

The lady and the camera man exchanged glances again, this time more mischievous than the last, and Jamie shifted his position uncomfortably, waiting for what she was going to say next. "Well, I would have asked you more questions, but you spaced out for most of them so I couldn't really use up any more time than we have now." The two exchanged thanks, and Jamie walked out of the room, happy to finally be free from that disgusting studio. 

The next day, Jamie was all but thrilled at the title of the article the interview was posted in: "Incredibly High Jamie Hewlett Comes to Interview to Talk About Damon, Spaces Out."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave criticism! I might make a second part of enough people like this.


End file.
